


Xerxes

by Tarlan



Category: Alexander (2004)
Genre: Community: smallfandomfest, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-23
Updated: 2009-05-23
Packaged: 2017-10-12 22:32:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/129844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Only Alexander and Hephaistion would know why the Palace of Xerxes burned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Xerxes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for smallfandomfest FEST05: Alexander/Hephaistion, young lovers  
> Also for: MMOM2009 Challenge - Day 23

Sitting at the feet of Aristotle, Alexander had learned much of the history of the Greeks. He had listened to the great tale of Leonidas and the 300, had learned of the siege on Troy and the ill-fated love between Achilles and Patroclus. He had not needed to learn of the most recent history, of the exploits of his father as he turned Macedonia into a powerful kingdom. That news came often from the runners sent by his father.

In this latest lesson, Alexander learned of how Xerxes, the old King of Persia, had burned the Athenian Acropolis and torn down the temples of Attica, defiling the Greek Gods. After their teacher had left them, he and Hephaistion had debated well into the night, far beyond the hours when most turned to sleep as they discussed all they had learned of the Persians that day. Yet it was not all talk, interspersed with caresses and kisses, simply a part of who they were together; friends since childhood, and now lovers.

"One day I will make the Persians pay for the actions of their king," Alexander whispered in the darkness as they lay together sated and warm. "And you will be by my side on that great day."

Hephaistion had sighed sleepily, his fingers brushing across a nipple and sending the ghost of desire rippling through Alexander. In another hour the sun would rise and a new day of studies would begin. Yet it was not all studies and sex for Alexander. His father had left him in charge of Macedonia while he waged war in Thrace, and Alexander had proved his leadership in battle against the Maedi. At eighteen, he had the world waiting at his feet with only a few worries as his father looked beyond Alexander's mother, Olympias, for other heirs to his kingdom.

For now, though, life was good.

Within a scant few years of succeeding his father as King of Macedonia, Alexander rode into the Persian capital at the head of an army six thousand strong, with Hephaistion by his side, just as he had prophesied all those years earlier. He took control of the great palace of Xerxes, and recalling that night of his youth, Alexander gave his soldiers free rein over the city to murder and pillage, something he had forbidden in so many other battles as he sought to sway the defeated populations into accepting him as their new ruler.

As day turned to night, Alexander wandered through one magnificent room after another, seeing all the spoils of centuries of Persian conquest displayed in vulgar splendor. The treasury had been filled with gold and precious stones, enough to buy an army greater than any seen in the known world, and yet there it lay, untouched while the Persian empire stagnated and fell around it. The decadence appalled him until he reached one room that no one had used for over a hundred and fifty years in penalty of death.

Oil lamps were lit to illuminate hanging carpets that adorned every wall, depicting celebrations and harem girls, and appeased Gods looking down in pleasure as goblets overflowed to form rivers of wine.

Sending away all but his most trusted companion, Alexander wandered through the interior. His eyes were drawn to the wide, low bed with its bedding spun from the finest silks and softest cottons. He reached out and ran a hand across the smooth silk, imagining it brushing over sensitive skin. Looking up, he saw Hephaistion standing on the far side of the bed, one smoothly muscled arm curled around one of four ornate posts positioned at each corner. The canopy was of the darkest blue, dotted with familiar constellations; of Gods and demi-Gods, of mortals who had pleased the Gods by their beauty or heroics and had been rewarded with a place set in the heavens. For a moment, he wondered if Xerxes had seen the same patterns in the night sky or if his people had different tales to tell. Pulling on a curtain tie, he let loose a cascade of sheer damask that would be impenetrable from the outside looking in but almost transparent to those on lying on the bed.

A bed fit for a king, he thought. Recalling old stories, he wondered how many virgins had lain between the silken sheets and tried to please their king before disappearing into his harem, never to be seen again. This room and this bed had seen the passion of that old king as he sought the one woman he would name his queen, and had seen no other passion since that king's death.

Catching Hephaistion's dark eyes, Alexander recalled all the passion from their youth when loving another man was acceptable. With age had come responsibility for taking wives and providing an heir. Scorn and ridicule were piled upon those who would prefer to continue laying with men rather than women after a certain maturity had been reached, but Alexander could not deny the temptation to risk scorn and lie with Hephaistion once more.

He held out his hand and Hephaistion must have read the desire in his eyes, turning away towards the heavy, gold-inlaid door, only to close it firmly and bar it securely rather than spurn him. When Hephaistion turned back, his eyes fixed on Alexander's, and all the desire and passion from their youth flooded back into Alexander in physical remembrance. His mouth dried as Hephaistion unclasped his tunic, the material falling to the floor in heavy waves to leave Hephaistion standing before him, naked and perfect.

The gangliness of youth had left his limbs, leaving him strong and muscular, and Alexander choked back a cry of need as Hephaistion took himself in hand, stroking his hardening shaft until it curved gracefully towards his firm belly. Alexander pulled at his clothing, eager to feel the cool air upon his desire-flushed skin as Hephaistion threw back his head, lips parted in a soft gasp as he came, catching the seed in his open palm.

Carefully, Hephaistion knelt upon the silken sheets before reaching behind to anoint between his cheeks with spent seed, glancing over to Alexander in unspoken consent. Alexander could see more than desire in Hephaistion's eyes; he could read trust too, keenly aware of how others would treat Hephaistion if they knew how willing he was to allow Alexander to penetrate him as a man. Unable to refuse such a gift, Alexander knelt behind him, piercing his friend in small, gentle stabs until he was fully sheathed. Too long denied, his pleasure came swiftly, and he emptied himself into his beloved, collapsing over the broad back and kissing the bare, silken skin.

Beyond this room, Macedonians were celebrating their victory over the Persians, taking their pleasure in wine and women, but in this splendid room, Alexander could hear only his own erratic heart beat gradually slowly, and feel only the silk of cloth and Hephaistion against his tingling skin. If he had the power to stop the moon from rising and setting then he would have bade Selene to draw her chariot to a halt and let him lie with Hephaistion longer, but he knew others would seek him out soon.

Sighing in regret, Alexander leaned over and kissed the sweet lips before wiping away the stickiness of passion from his lover's body with the silken sheets; he crawled from the large bed and dressed slowly, wanting to prolong the perfection of this moment. On the other side of Xerxes bed, Hephaistion dressed swiftly, his mouth curling into a wry smile. No incense would disguise the pungency of male sweat and sex that filled the air, and their secret could easily become common knowledge.

As Hephaistion unbarred the door, Alexander took down one of the ornate oil lamps, watching the flickering flame for a moment before holding it against the damask. Flames shot up immediately, engulfing the canopy and racing down the four corners to set the bed aflame too. He stepped back and watched it burn, grabbing another oil lamp and following Hephaistion into the atrium beyond this room where others waited. He threw the lamp, saw its oil spill across furnishings, flames leaping into the air, consuming with a greed that surpassed even the avarice of Xerxes.

Scholars would later tell tale of how Alexander had burned Persepolis's great palace of Xerxes to the ground in revenge for the old Persian king's attacks on Greece, but Alexander and Hephaistion would take the truth to their graves.

END

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